Red, White, Blue
by fullmoon230
Summary: There are always things that you keep inside, keeping them hidden to the world until the pressure within raises so high that it over boils, drowning you with a sensation you cannot fathom... like how it's happening to Matthew right now.


**AN: Hello~ How have you all been? Everyone in America, are you excited for Thanksgiving break?**

**I know I am... e_e since I was banned from fanfiction writing by my mom. She said that she didn't want me typing during school days... but then on weekends I have Chinese school (ahahaha, from 1:30 until the end of the day) and multiple Science Olympiad events (five? six? I lost count a few weeks ago), so technically I'm only able to type during breaks like this. Ah, and, this fic was typed for a school project (Health Final Project... it's a long story of how my teacher let me do this instead of a powerpoint, but I won't bore you with it), and I literally just finished it and sent it to my teacher, so I hurried and uploaded here. New chapters of other fics will be updated this week (I promise you...) aaaaannnddd I guess that's it... oh, um, PruCan if you squint and tilt your screen sideways... didn't know how teacher would react to homosexual love...**

**Whether you wanna review or not... it's up to you, but I would appreciate feedback from all you lovely peeps out there.**

**Now, onward with the story...**

**(EDIT: 4/6/2012)**

* * *

><p>Red, white, blue<p>

Blood, scars, mood.

* * *

><p>It was a secret.<p>

They're clueless about why he always wears that particular shabby vermillion hoodie over his pristine school uniform, even during the languid summer days in the searing heat. They don't know where he disappears off to during those brief passing periods, or late Saturday nights, or the wild football games that his step-brother always stars in.

They don't really notice how deep the color of his eyes are, or why he still carries a scruffy stuffed polar bear in his backpack as a token from his past. He was just another person in the hallways that they ignore as they walk steadily down the corridors, too immersed in their trifling conversations to notice the lone person standing haplessly on the sidelines, watching life pass by with brisk footsteps right in front of him. Just another being that fills up an vacant seat in the classroom, that wanders the hectic hallways in the midst of crowds of people, that stands behind someone in the never-ending lunch lines.

No one ever thought he was unhappy.

But then again, no one really even notices him anyways.

* * *

><p>Red.<p>

Matthew used to love the color red. It was the color of maple leaves that frolicked through the gentle winds of autumn where his home used to reside, of the warm crimson sunset that would slowly fade into the star speckled night sky…

Of the brilliant scarlet hoodie that was the last gift his father had given him before passing away; too big for his wiry frame, but full of the unspoken promises that would've been fulfilled.

He remembered that his papa's favorite color was blue; the Bleu de France that stood so proudly in the crisp air along the red and white of his country's flag, of the clear cerulean sky after a gentle cycle of rain, and of his wife's eyes. Of Matthew's mother's daring, joyous eyes that would twinkle with mischief whenever there was a surprise for her two loved ones that she couldn't wait to unveil. Alike the bold and bright white, she was full of surprises; ready to have them spring forth into the lives of her two precious ones whenever there was an opportunity for her to do so.

He had a wonderful family.

But everything changed after that day that his father had passed away.

Matthew can still remember how horrorstruck his mother had looked when the phone slipped through her hands, crashing against the ground with a wounded cry as the petit woman did the same, unable to grasp the edges of reality that she was rapidly slipping off of. He had clutched to his stuffed polar bear, a present that his loving mother had gave to him for his seventh birthday, as he watched his mother broke down, mentally, and soon physically, over the dreadful news that had rampaged into their lives during that rainy day, its gloomy overcast darkening the news without pity.

Soon, her brightness had begun to falter and a gray undertone was working its way to her spirits, dampening her emotions bit by bit as Matthew could only just watch, unable to work his way into his mother's heart to sooth her mourning soul.

His life felt surreal with the absence of his father, and the balance of the family was torn apart.

… Matthew never thought that death could do this to people.

Things got even worse after she brought Markus home. He was an eerie man, Matthew had thought at the time, but he had let the thought slip when he saw his mother smile comfortably at the man. After ages of despair, he was glad to see his mother starting to open up to the world, and was quick to surpass the nagging feeling in the back of his mind, telling him that things are not what they seem to be.

She said that they met at the funeral, where he had comforted her over the loss of her husband. He had a son too, and the two of them, as she said, quickly bonded over the loss of their other significant half. Two year prior to this meeting his wife had heartlessly ran away with another man, leaving him with their son. Alfred, as the man's child was called, was his elder by barely a year, yet looked almost identical to the small boy; with the same shade of golden hair and blue eyes that were only a few shades apart from Matthew's, the two adults sometimes couldn't even tell them apart.

After just merely four months of dating, they married. It was a haste decision, and Matthew could sense that she wanted to hurry up and find someone whom she could rely on; to fill in the enormous gaping hole that the death of his father had left behind in her heart.

And he knew that he should have listened to the warning that his brain had been telling him.

The man had drastically changed after marriage, and he slowly revealed to young Matthew who he really was. In front of the little boy's mother he would act with a gentle façade, acting like the caring man that his mother had always thought of him to be, and as soon as the woman was out of the room he would sneer at the small boy and bark at Matthew and his own son, commanding them to go outside and entertain themselves so that he could attend to 'more important things'.

Probably paint more layers of lies onto another to his mother, now that Matthew thought back to it; thick, uneven dollops of fabrications and deceptions.

And it wasn't long until Markus couldn't hide his true self anymore to his mother.

Matthew had started to notice fresh bruises blossoming overnight upon his mother's arms, yet she would always give him a soft smile whenever he asked about them, saying that she was just clumsy late at night yesterday and banged her arms against the edge of the bathroom countertop.

She hadn't known that he could hear her muffled cries last night while the blows of fists had rained down upon her, tainting her ivory skin with purple cruelty. She hadn't known that he was being treated the same during late evenings that she was away from the house, getting hurt by the same man that was swiftly chipping her happiness away.

She's unaware to the fact that he's in the same situation like her; that's he's suffering too. Yet, as the small child had thought of at the time, she already has enough going on in her life and Matthew didn't want to make things worse for her.

They were dancing a tormenting waltz, each swaying to and fro in the depths of their problems, yet never letting the other step into their misfortunes.

Her white was now being smothered by the realization that what she had thought was a new chance had turned out into a horrid trap, and like the bland shade of white she now is, his mother had begun to fade from his life, blending into the background to bind their now dysfunctional family together. Her own son, a socially awkward child. Her current husband, an abusive man.

…

That was why she was so happy when she finally noticed Alfred rising up the social status of his peers.

Alfred, with his joyful and outspoken personality, had started to obtain a group of friends and crowd of admirers, and loved every moment of it. He would be the one that was invited to play dates with other fifth graders while Matthew would be dwelling at home, having only his stuffed animal to accompany him during lonely afternoons. He would be the one that romps with his friends while Matthew lingered behind their group, watching them with mixed feelings as he was not invited to play with them.

Matthew was getting left behind as his step-brother propelled forward, neglecting the younger one as he indulged himself in his quickly growing circle of friends, and his mother focused more on the elder one as he rose, to keep her mind off of the unfortunate things that's happening in her life.

So as time fled by, as his cheerful scarlet hoodie faded to a washed-out red, and as his precious gift from his mother yellowed with age, he too was beginning to fade into white. A dull, unnoticeable white that was slowly being overwhelmed by the overpowering colors that his step-brother would portray.

* * *

><p>By the time that they were in high school, he had gotten used to never being the star<p>

His brother, on the other hand, was.

It was always his brother that can pull off a charming smile that enables him to woo the affections of the ladies, that has the splendid 4.0 GPA even with all of his clubs and football practices, and that gets invited to all of the raving parties and celebrations. He's always the one that their parents would adore. The 'jewel of the family', as they called him.

But not Matthew. Not the younger child that will always fall under the rising shadow of his elder brother, faltering behind the glorious footsteps of his sibling. He was never the one that gets the approving pat on the head whenever he does a good job on his test during his remaining childhood after his mother got remarried, and rarely the one that gets recognized for the hard work and effort that he puts into almost everything that he does at school.

The only times that he was significantly remembered at home were on the cruel nights that his step-father comes home highly intoxicated, ready to vent his anger on the poor boy. Of course his father would never abuse the golden boy, the star player, the ladies' man. He'll always go for him; the lonely soul, the invisible child.

The queer.

Ever since he had let the words 'I'll think about it' loose from his lips, that's all people at school remembered him for, even if they don't even notice him most of the time.

He had only wanted to be nice at the time. When the teen had uncomfortably shuffled towards him during that day in the lunch area, Matthew had thought that the tall tenth grader was just embarrassed that he was asking an upperclassman, or maybe a male, if he wanted to go out with him.

Yet when the teen had heard the words 'I'll think about it' fall from the blonde's lips, the sophomore fell silent. And then smirked.

He could feel dread slowly creep upon him as the lunch room quieted down, and in a blink of an eye sounds of laughter and jeering were bouncing off of the bare grey walls as the tenth grader was reluctantly handed a ten dollar bill by another teenager from a nearby table, disregarding the upperclassman which he had just asked out, and stood up proudly in front of his friend to show his victory of the bet.

"I always knew that he was a fag." He had said, already his attention not on Matthew anymore as the indigo-eyed male had turned his back against the bustling crowd, and bit his bottom lip with a bleak expression as he returned to picking at his food. Some sympathetic looks were casted, but their regards were quickly swallowed by the vast amount of others that showed more interest to chat about the newly founded topic.

Matthew could feel a tepid sensation wash over him, numbing his senses until he couldn't feel anymore.

And when his older step-brother had not looked up from his meal, blatantly ignoring the fact that it what his younger brother being heckled at, Matthew knew.

…That there might be no hope after all.

* * *

><p>Red, white, blue<p>

They didn't have a clue

* * *

><p>He could feel himself drowning in a sensation that he cannot fathom.<p>

But maybe not knowing is better than understanding what it truly is.

* * *

><p>Gilbert's friends always thought he was weird. With his albino features and asthmatic laugh, along mischievous smirks along with his crude actions, he was unique, and was recognized and picked out of the vast crowd into a popular clique for those traits.<p>

He was someone that everyone knew. A person that no one at school hadn't heard of.

The first time that he saw Matthew was under the bleachers during a late evening football game, the roaring of the crowd vibrating the bleachers with anticipation of the next goal as he strolled under the bleachers, tsk-ing as the rubbish that littered the grass. He had wandered here for a quick smoke, and paid no mind to the teen as he fished a cigarette out from the depths of his pocket. The fire from his lighter flickered to life as he flipped it open, and a quick drag was taken in through a deep breath after the cigarette was lit, the familiar sensation draining down his throat before it reemerged out of his mouth, forming into a puff of smoke as he exhaled.

After the soothing intake, he finally took a closer look at his surroundings. He could see his friend Antonio shagging the hot-tempered Italian female from their AP Biology class and the smoke emitted from his cigarette dispersing into the air with fading tendrils. Remaining sticks from eaten corndogs that the school serves during football tournaments were scattered under the bleachers from teenagers that didn't give a damn about the Earth's wellbeing, and he also caught a glimpse of other teenage couples that would giggle to each other before disappearing into the dark, probably scheming plans that were bound to be no good.

Nothing that he hadn't seen.

Until he turned around, and tripped over a beer can that had been carelessly left behind.

The sound of his cursing could be heard loud and clear, and when he propped himself back up with his elbows, he was met with dull indigo eyes behind thin framed glasses, which quickly widen in alarm as the owner of them realized that someone else was there with him. Gilbert arched a thin eyebrow at how surprised the other teen looked, and continued to stare at the panicky teen as they hastily tried to stuff something in their hoodie's large pocket. The blond backed away and turned suddenly, quickly leaving the silver haired teen with a puzzled look at how nervous the other had looked when they realized another being was there.

Yet the main thing that took ahold of his attention were the thin lines of crimson running down the blond's arm that fell downwards in drops to make contact with the fading concrete, leaving a steady trail of red behind his rapidly fading figure.

* * *

><p>It was the same procedure every time. One cut on the left, one cut on the right.<p>

That thin line of red would always appear upon each wrist, standing out in contrast with his pale ivory skin, littered with healing black and blue bruises, as crimson drops beaded along the cuts before they dribbled off to the sides, making inaudible plops against the fading blacktop. He could feel the throbbing pain dull as he watched each individual drop make its contact with the asphalt, dispersing the pain bit by bit as each drop swelled up languidly along the cuts before they continued their journey downwards towards the faded earth.

He had tried many other ways before; indulged himself in drugs with that aloof Dutch kid in his Physics class, drowned in the never-ending sea of alcohol with the hyperactive Danish delinquent and cynical English punk from Physical Education during those few times on party nights where they weren't invited. He even tried smoking once, but gave up as soon as he took his first inhale, hacking and coughing from the unpleasant sensation that tried to fill up his lungs, clawing its smoky talons at his throat.

He grimaced at the thought of the bitter taste in his mouth, and returned his gaze to his wrists, watching the blood slowly trickle to a stop before the wounds started to scab, a pink hue starting to surround the cut as his skin started to heal itself.

This was the only way that he could make the pain disappear and stay conscious.

He had tried going to the therapist once before, with a Hungarian student that was having relationship problems with her Austrian boyfriend. She was a sweet girl, really, one of the few that were friendlier with him, and it confused the blond as to why she would be having conflicts with her current social life.

The moment that she had stepped out of the therapist's office after the end of her time Matthew knew something was wrong, and she had stopped him from going inside for his turn, shaking her head with a grimace as he tried to stand up. He was faced with a grimace and a definite grip on his wrist as he was forcefully dragged out of the building, and he gazes curious at the woman as she silently ushered him into the car

The car ride back had been uneventful, save for the one time where she asked him if he wanted a smoke, where he hastily refused, still disliking the flavor of the vile sensation. She had shrugged, and lit one for herself, one hand on the driving wheel and one hand holding the lighter, muttering unrecognizable things under her breath while he shuffled uncertainly in his seat, wanting to tell her that smoking and driving might not be a good thing.

But he hadn't spoken up, and for the rest of the fourteen minute ride, there was only the purring of her car that accompanied the duo in their silence. She had dropped him off at school, and quietly whispered a word of thanks before driving off; leaving the teen with questions that hadn't been answered.

He hadn't seen her at school since that day.

Only two weeks later did he found out that she had killed herself; her cold body dressed in a lovely green sundress as she sprawled across the sleek black cover of the grand piano that her love had adored. Her once bright green eyes were now glazed over, and pills littered the music room's floor from the uncapped jar of tablets that she had taken.

It was a beautiful death, yet he couldn't help but feel the chill that went down his back after the Austrian had entered the room along with the others, lips pulled into a thin line as he ordered the group of teenagers to leave him in silence with her. As they were steered away from the scene, he couldn't get the image of an albino staring at him with unnerving intensity as he exited the room.

After that, Matthew hadn't dared to go back to the therapist again.

He unfurled his faded sleeves to roll it over the newly formed scars, hiding them from the public view as he did with all the other previous ones, and straightened up to crack his sore back from yesterday's mild beatings. Hearing the bell for passing period to end, he let loose a small sigh before emerging from under the stairwell, shaking his head of golden locks free of whatever he could have gotten from being under the secluded place before moderately walking up the staircase.

He was ready for another day; another day to be ignored, another day to be invisible.

And throughout the whole time, he hadn't notice the pair of scarlet eyes looking at him with an uncertain gaze.

* * *

><p>Days, weeks, months, years.<p>

…He was slowly getting tired by this.

* * *

><p>He had always thought that there would be one day where he's finally had enough. One day where all the things that had been compressed and simmering inside of him boils over, swamping him with the hurt and despair that had been building up over the years.<p>

Today had been just a normal day. One that had been same as all the other previous ones; getting marked absent because the teacher hadn't noticed him, getting pushed into lockers by others that weren't paying attention of who he is, getting ignored by others while he tried to ask a question.

And now he was just walking down the halls like how he always would, silent and excluded from the groups that would frolic around him, as if mocking him that he was a Nobody.

He didn't know what had happened, but as soon as he felt his backpack lighten, he knew something was wrong, and his heart skipped a beat, shocked at the sudden disturbance in the normal cycle of his bland life. Whipping his head around, he was faced with three amused faces, and his face fell as soon as he laid eyes upon the object in their possession.

His token of the past from his mother.

He froze; petrified.

"I never knew that there were any babies in high school." The brunet with the toy remarked, corners of his lips quirking upwards as he waggled the old stuffed animal in Matthew's face, "but it seems like I've been proved wrong."

People had begun to tone their talking down to a murmur as they watched the silent teen shuffle his feet in front of the trio, fingers nervously curling into his faded hoodie that was a tad bit small for his figure.

"C-Can you give it back?" Matthew asked, his normally soft voice stuttering at the sudden attention, and tentatively peered at the brunet over his thin-rimmed glasses, indigo eyes filled with alarm in waiting for a response. The teen scoffed, and rolled his eyes.

"Why would want to keep a ratty old toy like this one?" He replied instead, feigning boredom, before harshly shoving the worn animal up to Matthew's face, its limbs bouncing limply against its yellowing sides.

Matthew could feel the pressure within him rising.

"What? I can't hear you." The teen mocked, his voice rising over the now silent hallways with cockiness as everyone began to settle down, now more aware of what was happening. Distressed, Matthew made a feeble attempt to snatch his belonging back, but ended up with a fistful of air as the others howled with amused laughter.

A maniacal grin spread across the brunet's face. "Tough luck, _faggot_. Maybe next time."

The raven-haired Asian standing behind the one with the toy held out a lighter, and his grin stretched wider as he saw the blond's eyes widen with alarm while watching his every move. Provocatively, he waggled the ragged bear, watching Matthew eye the bear silently, hands clenched at his sides, seemingly drained of emotions.

Yet Matthew could feel his insides slowly bubbling to a boil, unable to will it to simmer back down.

The one holding the lighter took ahold of an arm of the bear and jerked it out of the brunet's hand, enticing a small ripping sound to meet the blond's ears.

He could feel the sensation within overflowing.

"Maybe this will get a reaction out of him." The black-haired one muse, and with a flick of his thumb, a fire sputtered to life as a light blue, and grew until it was a brilliant shade of white, laced with orange and red. With a turn of his wrists, the bear was brought dangling above the open flame. The tongues of the effulgent flames flickered upwards towards the stuffed animal, and then, as if pondering, gave it a few light caresses before greedily engulfing the bear's leg it in its burning embrace.

That was the last thing Matthew saw before dashing out of the doors of the facility.

* * *

><p>As soon as Gilbert saw the blond dash out of the school, he knew what was going to happen.<p>

So he punched the kid straight in the jaw, hoping that he might have broken something, and snatched the burning bear before sprinting out of the building while trying to extinguish the fire with only his hands, praying that he could find the underclassman before it was too late.

* * *

><p>Red, white, blue<p>

Life's just too cruel.

* * *

><p>It had only taken the indigo-eyed blond fifteen minutes to reach this bridge, for he knew the way to it by heart. This was the only place that Matthew can stay in peace; where old memories from his childhood would flood back with nostalgia, washing over him with a calming touch as he closed his eyes, listening to the rustling of the lush foliage and gentle rapids of the river.<p>

This was the last place that his father had taken him to before he died.

He slowly breathed in a deep breath of the warm air as he closed his eyes, letting his thoughts run wild, washing him away.

Red.

Death.

Laughter.

Broken.

Bruises.

Love.

Blue.

Blood.

Pain.

Exclusion.

White.

Fire.

Hate.

Freedom.

Freedom?

What is freedom?

"Matthew!"

One word was all it took for the teen to be jerked back into reality, and he lurched away from the railings, genuinely surprised to the foreign voice. Footsteps were approaching the quite male with rapid pace, and the blond's eyes widen in recognition as the figure drew closer, their red eyes locked on him with the same intensity that he had saw on the day that the Hungarian's death was discovered.

And they were holding the remnants of his burnt toy.

Remains of the bear trailed behind the man as insignificant pieces of cotton fluff fell out from the blackened opening, drifting and twirling in the wind before settling down upon the ground, leaving what looked like white breadcrumbs behind the albino's approaching figure.

"Don't you _dare_ tell me you're about to do what I think you're going to do." Gilbert had wheezed out after he saw that he had the blond's attention, and bend over from the exhaustion of lack of oxygen to calm his thumping heart, crying for the necessity of air. "Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem." He managed to continue, eyes burning into the other's own eyes. Indigo met red, and indigo quickly averted away from red's intense attention.

Indigo sighed.

"Temporary problem?" Matthew said softly, and shook his head before giving a wry chuckle, "You saw it; what I have is not a temporary problem." he added, scuffing his shoe and kicked a pebble. He paused, as if thinking about something, but then shook his head and continued with his thought.

"No one will miss me, for forgetting is what they always do. Their memories of me will just be whisked away as time passes by. " he sighed, "I am not my father. I am not unique. They won't mourn over me.

"Dude, I don't know how the hell they treat you at home, but the problem at school can be fix-"

"My problems stem from those at home, not at school."

Silence dwelled between them after those words left Matthew's mouth, and he grimaced at the bitter taste the words left. Gilbert, dumbfounded, fell silent at the usually quiet boy's interruption.

"Every day there are about… eleven youth suicides… Gilbert." Matthew spoke up, hesitantly added the other teen's name towards the end, and looked up into the albino's eyes. "And how many of them do others actually really care about? How many of them, do you think, are just like me?"

A wrinkle formed between the albino's brows as he scowled.

"More people consider about it, you know, but numerous of them must have faced their problems, Matthew, or else every one of them that had considered would be _dead_ right now." He stated blatantly, and Matthew fell silent to his response.

"But some couldn't… like Elizabeta." the blonde remarked, and he watched Gilbert with curiosity as the elder teen froze, an unreadable expression quickly masking his face as the Hungarian's name was mentioned.

"Elizabeta… was a good friend of mine; a childhood friend, if you want to call it that way." The albino finally said, eyes wandering towards anywhere except for Matthew, "What happened between Roderich and her is something that we'll never know…"

"Something that you all will keep wondering, no?" Matthew asked quietly, and it made Gilbert suspicious at how discreetly the other teen had asked the question. The boy sighed wryly, and then calmly smiled, "Maybe they'll remember me after this."

Silence filled the air before Gilbert interpreted the slight smile on Matthew's face.

"_That_ is a very selfish and stupid thing to do." The scarlet-eyed one growled, once he realized what the blond was hinting at, and Matthew sighed, brushing away the fact that the albino had just insulted him, and leant backwards against the railings.

"Maybe" he replied melancholically, and inclined his head backwards to stare at the open sky; the vast cerulean sky that was the exact color that his deceased father had loved.

A bird flew gracefully through the sky, he noted.

"You don't want to die. You just want to feel better, so you're thinking that doing this will stop the pain that you feel." Gilbert continued, walking closer to the smaller teen, and stopped as he saw the expression upon the blond's face.

His eyes held a distant look to it as he looked towards the sky, a lone bird fluttering its wings as he gazed at it, intrigued at the sight. After glancing backwards, he lifted himself so that he was sitting on top of the steel railings, and swung his legs back and forth, hitting the metal with a light and steady beat.

He followed the beat of his heart; a strong and rhythmic beat.

"You know, I've always wanted to be like a bird… to fly away from my life and start anew." His head was kept down, and the constant beat remained as the only sound between the two before he finally stopped, letting a silence settled over them.

Matthew breathed in a deep breath and closed his eyes. A woeful expression escaped him, but only briefly before he relaxed, the corners of his lips settling into a pleasant smile.

"Gilbert… thank you for noticing."

"Wha-"

And without another word, before the albino could fully comprehend what he had just said, he flipped backwards over the railings, and Gilbert cursed loudly, dropping the remains of Matthew's treasured stuffed animal, dashing forward in vain to attempt to grab ahold of any part of the blond that he could reach.

The last things that he saw were Gilbert's burning crimson eyes, the albino's platinum hair, and the never ending cerulean sky beyond his reach.

* * *

><p>Red, white, blue<p>

Red, white, blue…

…

Red, white, and blue


End file.
